


16 weeks + 1 night

by chinesebakery



Series: 16 Weeks [2]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Hook-Up, One Night Stands, Oral Sex, Prequel, Prompt Fic, Really fluffy smut, Sex, Sexual Content, Smut, Walk Into A Bar
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-10
Updated: 2016-07-10
Packaged: 2018-07-22 16:35:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7446154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chinesebakery/pseuds/chinesebakery
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On the night before the new term starts, Fitz is having a drink with Hunter in a student bar near campus, and there's this girl he can't keep his eyes off of...<br/>Prequel to "Off to a Good Start".</p>
            </blockquote>





	16 weeks + 1 night

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Tashonix](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tashonix/gifts).



> I was working on a sequel to "Good Start" when Tashonix send me the following prompt: "Sometimes, there is nothing better than some good old-fashioned, no string attached fucking". So here's a little prequel, because I can't imagine those two having a one-night stand and then going on their merry way.
> 
> Much thanks to jsimmonss for beta-reading and to grapehyasynth for her general support.

She was looking his way again. Or at least he thought she was. Once more, Fitz was tempted to turn around and make sure there wasn't some hunky linebacker lurking behind his back.

He'd noticed her from the moment she arrived and claimed a seat at the bar, directly in his line of vision. More surprisingly, she seemed to have taken an interest _him_.

She stood out in the midst of the rowdy student crowd, with her conservatively stylish clothes and her put-together air. He couldn't help staring at her. For long, anxious minutes, he'd been dreading the inevitable moment her boyfriend showed up and popped Fitz's bubble, but instead, she'd been joined by a sparky brunette who appeared to be a close friend. As pretty as the newcomer was, nothing seemed to distract Fitz from the girl in the blouse.

Even engrossed in an animated conversation, she kept glancing in his direction at regular intervals. Her eyes crinkled when she smiled. Her hair looked soft. He wondered what she smelled like.

"Ok, I've had enough," Hunter declared, clasping Fitz's shoulder. "Either you go and talk to her right this moment, or I will. I mean it. I _am_ gonna steal this girl from under your nose."

"I– Uh, what?"

"Oh, come _on_ ," Hunter whined, rolling his head back. "You two have been eyefucking each other for an hour, it's disgraceful. There are _children_ here."

"In a student bar?"

"Come _on_ , mate," Hunter pressed. "You gotta seize those rosebuds and all that crap."

"I don't know," Fitz frowned, seized with a sudden urge to escape. "Maybe I should go home. I have an early class–'"

"Remind me, why are we friends again?" Hunter shook his head, staring at him wide-eyed and appalled. "Don't you think it's time you lived a little? Your big brain is getting in the way of your little one having any kind of fun. It's terribly sad to watch, let me tell you."

Fitz had to admit that assessment wasn't entirely inaccurate.

All the American television he'd watched as a child had led him to believe that the student life in the US was all about promiscuity and debauchery, alcohol fueled parties and bizarre rituals in togas, but alas, that hadn't been his experience at all. He was working relentlessly and hadn't been invited to a party in ages. Apparently, his grumpy and bashful demeanor hadn't made much of an impression on his peers.

Once in a while, he would meet a girl who wasn't entirely turned-off by his awkward and brainy type, but all his ensuing relationships had been short-lived and unsatisfying. Most girls seemed to resent his tendency to lose himself in his research to the point of only coming up for air when his stomach growled.

Instead of easing over the years, his skittishness with the opposite sex had steadily solidified, and now there he was, 25 and achingly shy, terrified at the prospect of talking to a girl he fancied, even though she appeared to fancy him back.

"She's here with a friend," Fitz noted, dubious. "I wouldn't want to intrude–"

"Friend or no friend, she's been staring at you like you're banoffee pie. I'm fairly certain she'll be okay with it," Hunter replied, rolling his eyes. "I'm serious. Either you take a chance, or I will."

Fitz gave his friend a pleading look but Hunter crossed his arms over his chest and pointedly glanced at his watch.

The moment he was on his feet, Fitz felt his heart pick-up and his stomach twist in knots. His face felt too hot and the air seemed thicker. If the girl hadn't noticed him moving –he could have sworn she'd given him a small nod of encouragement– he would have gladly run away.

He'd been lucky a few girls had realized how hopeless he was and taken pity on him or else he would probably still be a virgin to this day.

Fitz had no idea of the proper etiquette for these things. He wasn't a regular of the bar scene by a long shot –in fact, if Hunter hadn't insisted he needed a little liquid comfort after his latest break-up with his on-again, off-again girlfriend, Fitz would have stayed at home, toying with his latest prototype all evening, as usual.

It wasn't too late to abort mission. He would have ample reason to. A new term was starting the next day and he had an early class in the morning that he was really looking forward to. How much shit would Hunter give him if he turned around now? Just to make sure, Fitz glanced back over his shoulder and sure enough, Hunter was making a broad  shooing motion in his direction, his expression displeased. There was no way to go but straight ahead, Fitz took a deep breath and made his way to the woman who was now looking at him expectantly.

"Hi," he said with a very awkward, terminally nervous smile when he finally reached her side at the bar. He could feel his ears burning and knew his face had to be an impressive shade of purple.

"Hi." Her eyes were a striking shade of amber, and she was ever prettier from up close. He was in so much trouble.

"We were wondering if you were gonna make it all the way over here," the other girl said with a teasing smile. "You looked a little conflicted."

"Mmh, yeah, I got– distracted," Fitz admitted lamely.

"I bet," the friend replied, snorting.

"I'm Jemma, by the way." The way she was looking at him was making him want to blush for an entirely different reason. And how long had it been since he'd heard an English accent?

"Fitz." And with that, he had exhausted all the topics of conversation he had in store for her. He had literally no idea what to say next.

"Daisy," the friend said as she jumped off her stool and gathered her bag and her leather jacket. "But I was about to leave. Apparently." She gave Jemma a very pointed, very obvious wink. "Have fun," she said, wiggling her eyebrows and grinning to them both as she made her exit.

"Should I point out that subtlety is not Daisy's forte?" Jemma asked conspiratorially, bowing her head closer to him. He caught a whiff of her shampoo, something flowery and delicate.

"I don't know," Fitz shrugged, "that wink was pretty inconspicuous."

Jemma smirked and seemed to study his face for a few  moments. "Did you want another drink, Fitz?" she asked, her eyes gleaming. "You look like you could use a little social lubricant, yeah?"

***

When the barman announced last call shortly before midnight, Jemma started chewing on her lower lip. She downed the gin & tonic she'd been nursing for a while before turning to him, her hands clasped behind her back.

"I live just around the corner," she finally said, looking up at him with big doe eyes. "Want to have a last drink at mine?"

Fitz choked on his last gulp of beer. Was it real life? Had the beautiful, bright young woman he'd been ogling all evening just invited him to go home with her. To, presumably, have sex? Without him mucking it up entirely? It was a little surreal.

Somewhere along the way, he'd loosened up a little and their conversation had found a natural rhythm. He'd discovered that in addition to being beautiful, she was bright and nice and funny and basically everything you could hope for a person to be.

It was possibly too good to be true. Was she pranking him?

"Don't overthink it," she said, reading his mind. "Either you feel like it, or you don't."

"I do," he assured her, nodding frantically. "I really, _really_ do."

***

"I really thought I had a bottle of wine, somewhere," Jemma informed him with an apologetic shrug as she came to join him where he awkwardly stood in the middle of the living room. "But it appears I'm all out. There's nothing in there but sriracha and beer, I'm afraid."

"Oh." Fitz gave her a tight smile as his nerves threatened to get the better of him once more. "It's okay, I'm not really thirsty."

"Really?" Jemma looked up at him with a furrowed brow. "What are you doing here, then?"

"I– uh, I thought– you–" Once again, he felt his face heat up. Was it possible that he had misinterpreted the whole thing?

Her face broke into a wide grin. "I'm just messing with you, Fitz." She stepped into his space, not quite touching him, but close enough that he could sense the heat of her body. "You're so easy."

"You're _mean_ ," he said, beaming. "I don't know if I want to hang out with you anymore."

Jemma chuckled at that, while her eyebrows shot to her hairline. " _Hang out?_  Are we gonna make out under the bleachers, after?"

She was even prettier when her eyes were sparkling with mischief. It was distracting, really. How was he supposed to ever win an argument with her?

"Jemma–"

Using her unfair advantage, she got on her tiptoes and pressed her lips to the corner of his mouth. A spark of excitement shot through him instantly and he chased after her mouth when she took a step back.

"Are you gonna invite me to prom?" she taunted again, biting her bottom lip to curb a chuckle.

He tried to conjure a miffed expression, to a resounding fail. "I'm not so sure about that now."

"Because I might be convinced–"

When his lips hovered over hers, only barely grazing them, she let the sentence die and invaded his space further, gripping his shoulder and sealing their mouths together. His own hands found their way to her waist, and the next moment they were fused together, sharing a searing kiss as their bodies still shook with laughter.

***

The kiss started out sweet enough, their lips pressing together with unexpected tenderness and ease, until Jemma decided she'd had enough of that. She flicked her tongue across his bottom lip to demand access, and Fitz eagerly complied, enjoying the heat that kiss sent pulsing all over his body. As their kiss deepened, the vibe between them rapidly switched from _nice_ to _deep and heated_.

Jemma nipped at his bottom lip and untucked his shirt from his pants so she could run her hands underneath, and his skin felt like it was on fire.

That escalation was all her doing –he was _trying_ to pace himself as well as he could. It _had_ been a while since he'd last done this, and there was something about Jemma that just drove him crazy. He'd had a little to drink, too, which pushed him to act past his inhibitions and blurred the limits of his self-control.

Once in her bedroom, Jemma fell back on the bed, pulling him down with her. They kept kissing ardently, exploring, discovering each other's sensitive spots along or under their jaws, or below an ear.

Jemma escaped his grasp to undo the buttons of her blouse and pull it over her head and reached behind her to unclasp her bra in the next beat.

Fitz couldn't help but gape.

The freckles on her face were attractive and cute, but he found the ones that adorned her chest _incredibly_ sexy. Her breasts were pale and round, and peppered with a swarm of cinnamon-colored little dots, forming patterns he longed to trace with his tongue. He did it with his fingers first, exploring the soft curves, cupping them with his hand, enjoying the feel of their weight in his palms.

  
When his lips found one hardened tip, she let out a soft moan that sent more heat coursing through his veins. He teased her for a while, his teeth grazing her nipple softly, committing her maddening sounds of pleasure to memory. When his fingers dipped under the elastic waistband of her panties, she raised her head.

"You're overdressed," she declared with a raised eyebrow and a directing –if somewhat breathless– tone.

With shaking hands, he fumbled with the buttons of his shirt while she got rid of her pants and underwear. Their next kiss was a little frantic, a little out-of-sync –he was too distracted by the amount of skin offered to him, his hands wanting to be everywhere at once.

When his fingers finally grazed her slit, feeling the liquid heat that had pooled there, he felt himself twitch with renewed urgency.

"Oh shit," he gasped, "you're so…"

"I'm so what, Fitz?" Jemma asked, forcing her eyes open. "Tell me."

"Wet," he groaned. "You're so wet." His cock felt impossibly hard now, as he fought with the contradictory urges to please her, drawing out her pleasure, and to just bury himself inside her already.

Ignoring his baser instincts, he dipped his thumb into her wetness, coating it with her juices, and used it to flick at  her clit while his other fingers teased her opening.

"I think you're right," she offered, huffing a shaky sigh.

Touching wasn't enough. He scooted down until his face levelled with her sex and ran his tongue along her folds a few times, until he settled on her clit, licking, teasing her. When he tried a careful nip, she let out  a hoarse cry, her hands gripping his shoulder to pull him back up for more urgent kissing.

"What about you?" she asked earnestly, running her hands down his torso until they met the waistband of his jeans. She started undoing the buttons, her fingers barely grazing the bulge there. "Are you hard for me?"

"Yes," he answered, his voice strained, and laid there, powerless, while her fingers hovered over him.

"You don't sound quite sure," she frowned. She was toying with him again, he knew, and he wanted nothing more than to play along, as long as she kept her hands on him. In his over-excited state, the barest of her caresses felt like a lick along his length.

"Maybe I should check?" she continued, her eyes gleaming. "What do you think, Fitz?"

"Oh, God, yes. _Please_."

"Take these off," she said commandingly.

He raised his hips and clumsily pulled down both his pants and boxers alongs his legs, catching his socks along the way, and there he was, naked and hard and pulsing.

  
Their eyes met and hers were dark with want. He could hardly believe his luck that she seemed to want this as much as he did.

Jemma's fingers wrapped around him for a few tentative strokes, until she had a change of heart. Leaving a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses down his neck, she descended down his body, flicking his nipple with her tongue, grazing the trail of hair that run from his navel to his crotch, and finally, replaced her hand with her hot, eager mouth. Her tightly closed mouth slid up and down his shaft while she teased the underside of his cock with her tongue, and then he was panting, fighting against the sensation as the muscles of his lower belly clenched with exertion.

"Oh, shit. Stop," he begged breathlessly, and she let him go with a pop after a last roll of her tongue against his slit.

She scooted up and pressed a kiss to his shoulder. "I see you weren't lying," she said lightly, and rested her hand on his chest. His heart was hammering desperately under her fingers.

"I need a moment," he said, his eyes squeezed shut, as he tried to take his excitement down a notch.

His best bet was to imagine a run down commentary of his performance so far as if it were a soccer game. In his mind, the commentator sounded suspiciously like Hunter. Sure enough, that seemed to do the trick

"Okay," he rasped. "Better now."

"Good," she said, and reached to the bedside table for a condom. She handed it to him and watched gingerly as he rolled it over his length.

Once he was done, Fitz suddenly found himself at a loss for what to do next as his nervousness came back full force. There were too many variables to consider –did she want him on top or not? Was she expecting a sex marathon with a dozen position changes? Because he was definitely not up for that. If anything, he was liable to come in the next thirty seconds. Oh God, the embarrassment that would be.

"Kiss me," Jemma said sweetly and he gladly dropped down next to her, turning on his side to wrap her arm around her, scooting as close as they could get. She kissed him until his brain quieted again, until he forgot all the noise and focused on the sensation, the feel of her in his arms, and his undeniable need for more.

God, she was perfect, he thought, as she seamlessly maneuvered them until he was laying between her legs, his hardness pressing against her thigh. He adjusted his position as she tilted her hips and finally, _finally_ , he pushed inside of her, sliding easily into her wet heat.

He swallowed her moan with another languid kiss as he waited for her to adjust to him, but she was already raising her hips, seeking friction. He couldn't help but move.

"Feels so good," she groaned into his mouth, hooking her legs around his hips. His own pleasure was building with each stroke, each graze of her fingernails down his back, every one  of her sighs and moans.

When Jemma clenched her muscles, her heat wrapping tightly around him, improving the friction, he hissed.

"Oh shit, God, don't do that–"

"What if I want to?" she asked, grinning against his neck, and did it again– tightening all around his cock, accentuating every sensation. With every stroke, he was running precariously closer to the cliff.

Balancing his weight on one side, he reached down between them and flicked a tentative finger against her clit. She shivered against him and gave him an encouraging groan. He did it again, and again, until she was vibrating against him, clinging to his shoulders, her entire body tight.

"Almost there," she panted between moans, and soon all her muscles clenched as she peaked, her face buried in the crook of his neck and her sounds of pleasures echoing in his ears.

All he had to do to join her was to let go. With a few long, hard strokes, he was there, exploding deep inside of her, pulsing with his release. His body went rigid, then completely limp as Jemma caressed the thin curls at the nape of his head, murmuring unintelligible words into his ear.

***

When he came back from the bathroom, Fitz let himself fall facedown on the bed next to her, making her chuckle. Jemma seemed to be quite energized now, while he barely had the strength to keep breathing.

"I'm glad your friend made you come talk to me," she said, running her fingers along his spine, tracing every bump and dip.

"You saw that, huh?" he groaned in the pillow.

"It was sweet," she confirmed. "You looked a little terrified."

"Well, you're a little terrifying," he said in a drawn-out yawn.

"Someone's been up past their appointed bedtime."

"Oh." He raised his head, his brow furrowed. "Do you mind if I–"

"Go to sleep, Fitz," she said, rolling her eyes. Minutes later, he was snoring softly by her side, on top of the covers.

**Author's Note:**

> Sooo that happened. Hope it's okay! I can't tell, I'm such a baby smut writer. I'm still planning a few more fics in this specific verse, some smutty, some not.
> 
> Tumblr > chinese-bakery.


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